Sarmatian Men Do Not
by Knight's Queen
Summary: Growing up Sarmatian is not always easy...especially when your father is Tristan.


**Disclaimer: Our beloved Knights belong to me only in my heart…. I own my OC's and adore them.**

**This is dedicated to Gargoyle13 and Lycanus1 and their brilliance in developing amazing characters-thank you**

**A tale about bringing up young Samartian boys….**

**Chapter 1: Sarmatian Men Do Not-**

The tavern at Badon was usually the hub of activity, but on this day it seemed it was much quieter than it normally was for a warm summer's mid afternoon. The Knight's sat nestled in their usual seats; sipping their fair share of ale over talks of battles, home and friendships and their papers which would be arriving in a few weeks time.

Vanora hovered around in her usual manner like a mother hen clucking at her chicks in a vain attempt to keep them somewhat contained. She made sure that everything ran as it should, seamlessly.

Celemon, with her thick auburn strands of hair, tended the kitchen and serving area of the tavern. She was one of Vanora's best workers, sensible and able to keep her wits about her in the mitts of drunken men. She had another trait that she was well known for; she was the woman of Arthur's scout Tristan. He had claimed her many years ago as his woman and there were not many who dared tempt fate in pursuing her.

Celemon kept in time to ensure that her boss was never displeased with her work. She had been working for Vanora since she was fourteen. It was there that she had come to know Tristan, and there she fell in love with him.

They had three sons, triplets; Bedwyr (Beds), Mordred (Dred) and Agravaine (Grav). The Scout named his sons in honor of three fallen Knights who he had served with. The boys favored their father in every way it was almost uncanny how much like the Scout they were becoming as they neared their 10th birthday.

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><p>In a flash, young Mordred bounced into the tavern as though he was being chased by a lightning bolt, and he was…the bolt of lightening was named Bedwyr.<p>

Dred quickly ran behind his mother, flinging her around causing her to nearly drop her tray. Bedwyr raced with great force until he stood before his mother. He shuffled from side to side of her all the while she defeated his attempt to surpass her.

"I am going to kill you Dred,"snarled Beds, the eldest of the Scout's triplet sons. "I shall tear you from limb to limb."

"Here now…stop that, this every instant," their mother commanded as she shifted her body from side to side in hopes of keeping her eldest son from reaching the younger. "What on earth is this all about?"

"I am going to kill you Dred," Beds snarled once again. "Wait till I get my hands on you…you cannot hide behind mother forever."

"Listen young man…you will do no such thing," her finger pointed in his angry face. "Now stand there next to Agravaine…now…" Reluctantly her son obeyed… only after his father's glare caught him and the boy knew it would be in his best interest to mind his mother. Looking behind her down at her son whose hands gripped tightly on her waist. "And as for you young man… come out from behind there, immediately." He quickly ran to the side of his youngest brother, Grav.

Once in place the boys stood a good distance apart from one another, especially Dred who made sure to have his brother Grav securely in between him and Beds. He had no intention on being anywhere within reaching distance of his elder brother.

She gazed tersely at the trio who now stood in a straight line before her and within eyesight of their father.

She knelt down, placing her hands in her lap as her eyes cast shadows of disappointment toward her children. She could shame the strongest of men to their knees with just her eyes.

"First thing is this," her voice calm yet firm. "Sarmatian men _**do not**_ hide behind the skirts of their women," looking straight at Dred. "…even if that woman is their mother." A sharp chuckle came from the youngest of the boys Grav, in turn the boy got a fiery eyeful from his father who sat carving at his apple.

In that very moment the three boys lowered their heads, placed their hands behind their backs and kicked at the floor with their boots.

"What have I told you three about bowing your heads?" She inquired as her hands crossed in front of her, her brow creased.

There was an uncomfortable silence as three heads looked sheepishly toward their father then slowly back to their mother; all the while kicking more dust up with their boots.

"Well?" She demanded.

Deep breathes, heavy sighes then all three looked into their mother's face before they spoke in unison. "Sarmatian men…. do not bow their heads to anyone…ever," Their voices rang strong and clear.

Rounds of muffled chuckles and smirks heard from elder Knights as they raised their tankards of ale to lips.

"That is correct, have you ever seen your father bow his head ever…no you have not." She stood up, took three paces towards her sons, lifting their heads with the crook of her finger, and then straightened their shoulders. "You must always be proud of who you are…where you came from….you are lucky to have such a strong heritage… you should be proud of it." She smiled softly as her hand rubbed Grav's thick dark locks before sliding her hand loving to the lift his chin high gazing at him with sweet motherly eyes. "You are Sarmatian."

The elder Knights sat taller in their chairs casting nods to one another then to the Scout, raising their tankards to him. They were proud of his woman and how she was raising his sons; even though she was not Sarmatian herself. Dag placed his hand on Tristan's shoulder and gave a hard squeeze and a nod. The Scout smiled.

She stood before them with her arms crossed once again her brows creased.

"Now, what was this fuss between you two all about?"

"Dred called me…. Said I was a….," his hesitation grew as his hands fidgeted before him.

"He said you were a what?"

"He said I was an arse," the boy looked at his father then his mother, standing tall and firm.

"No h-" Grav uttered before being elbowed by his brother. "Ouch Beds that hurt!"

"No….he did not call him an arse then Grav?" she stood with her hands on her hips gazing at one son then the next. "What was it then that he called Beds... Agravaine?"

Agravaine stood biting his lower lip till it near bled, looking at the clenched eyed expression of his eldest brother.

"Well son, I am waiting."

"He…. called..um...he called him a...um...him a…," he cast his eyes around the room hoping to spark something that would give him a cover...suddenly a smile replaced his concerned expression as his eyes landed on his uncle Bru. "He called Beds a godsdamnitall stupid pissfucked arse, yes that is what he called him a godsdamnitall stupid pissfucked arse." He stood with his chest leaning out rather proud, the smile on his face grew.

Loud sounds of choking/coughing/laughing came from the table where the elder Knights sat. Followed by the sound of grown men clearing their throats.

Celemon squinted her eyes for a moment in disgust... then smiled. "Well now... that was not very nice of you to call your brother that lovely expression you have heard from a certain someone," her eyes quickly turned in Bru's direction to find he had suddenly turned his back, head sunk between broad shoulders.

"Come here the pair of you," both boys approached their mother. "You know what I expect from you both. Shake hands and give five things,"

"Mother!" They both moaned.

"Oh…did I say five….I meant 10."

"No, no five is fine…yes five it is," they both canted in unison with a rolling roar of heavy chuckles coming from the table.

Beds and Dred stood facing one another, their hands clasped in a tight grip, pulling and shaking trying to outdo one another in strength.

"You've a good bow arm," Dred said.

"You've a good way with horses, you have Dred," followed Beds.

"Yeah well you've a good way with tracking," Dred growled between gritted teeth, his muscles straining to keep his brother at bay.

"And you are a champion tree scaler, brother" Beds added his elbow twisted as he attempted to bring his brother down.

The compliments went on until the boys were near to their knees and had reached the required five each. Releasing their grips forcibly each boy snorted and kicked the ground with the boots.

"And you fight like a girl," Beds uttered under his breath as he turned, suddenly caught in his father's death glare. The Scout's brows knitted as he snarled at his son in disapprovel. The young boy smiled sheepishly at his father as he rolled his eyes. There was a low roar of laughter from the table.

"What was that," Celemon inquired.

She looked at her man only to see him shake his head and wave her on.

"Well then …that is better," she smiled rubbing both the boys' heads. "Alright then off with you…and remember you are bonded as brothers in more ways then most... and only have each other in this world…" She smiled.

It was but a second and they were off, racing as fast as they could to be away from the tavern. Just as they were to the edge they heard it….

"Oh Bedwyr…not so fast son," she called a deathly call.

The young boy stopped, turned around slowly -while his brothers wasted no time in scurrying away before they too were called back.

Slowly and cautiously Beds strolled toward his mother, passing the table of Knights. As he past, Bors jokingly swatted him on his bottom and let out a bellowing laugh.

His gaze was slow to reach his mother's. He stood very close to her, she laughed a haunting laugh.

"You really did not think you would get away with it did you son," she said, hands now on her hips.

The boy meshed his lips and lowered his head. With her finger she lifted his chin. "You are Sarmatian, never bow ….your…. head…."

She turned and took a few paces then turned to face her son, her arms now folded across her chest.

"You know son, a man takes nothing with him when he dies save his reputation and the respect he has earned. Who he was in his life," she paused. "Beds, not only did you lie but you caused your brothers to lie for you." His eyes slowly glanced at his father. Tristan was leaned back-braced against the table on his elbows with his legs stretched out feet crossed at the ankles.

"If a man cannot be trusted by his words he will not have respect…and a man who is not respected is nothing. You have never heard your father to lie…have you..and you will never." She paused. "Do you understand my meaning?"

"Yes mother….but father is feared." He said quietly. "Is that not respected?"

"True…your father is feared by many," she continued. "But the words that come from your father's mouth are the truth…and people know this….. Beds…many people go through their life believing they are respected only to find they are merely feared, "she lifted his chin with her finger. "And fears can be overcome."

There was a pause.

"Now what could your brother have said that was so terrible that you would take his life, "she asked.

After a few moments the boy approached his mother who was now kneeling down with her hands in her lap.

He leaned in and whispered. "He said I was a mother's boy."

Celemon choked back a laugh as her son retook his place.

"Oh son, but you are a mother's boy…. You are my champion. And someday some beautiful girl will come steal your heart away from your mother." She placed her palm upon his right cheek and smiled.

"I will never leave you mother…I will always protect you…it is my duty," his voice strong and clear.

She softly chuckled and fluttered her lashes.

"Son, it is your father's duty to care for me," her voice was as soft as a breeze.

Beds stood looking at his father then suddenly leaned in, placed his hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear.

"Mother…father is getting old… I shall protect the both of you." He took several steps back.

Her lips meshed concealing a laugh. "Truer words have never been spoken son." She cleared her throat. "Well then you may go."

Just as Bedwyr turned to leave Celemon cleared her throat again.

"Son," he stopped and pivoted on his boot heel. "Sarmatian men do not leave without kissing their mothers." Her head titled to the side with a grin on her face.

He cocked his brow in what could only be described as a mirror image of his father. "Mother…. You just only made that one up."

She beamed, sitting as tall as she could on her knees. "I did…. and I rather like this one." Closing her eyes she titled her head back just slightly, closed her eyes and puckered her lips.

Bedwyr looked at his mother then to his father. Tristan smiled and motioned his son with a nod of his head. The boy ran to his mother took her face in his hands, bent her head down and placed a kiss on her forehead.

She laughed as he ran off. Just as he made the edge of the tavern he heard it again.

"Oh Bedwyr…"

He stopped.

He turned.

"Go wait with your brothers until your father calls for you all in for your punishment."

The look a sheer terror crossed the young boys face as he wide eyed look at the Scout. Tristan was now standing next to his woman with his arm around her waist.

"Oh son… you did not really think you were going to get away with lying did you?" Her head leaned against Tristan's chest.

As the boy left, the conversation at the table turned to the reckoning force of being a Sarmatian man.

Because after all... Sarmatian men do not take lying lightly.

**The end.**

"**Many people go through their life believing they are respected only to find they are merely feared. And fears can be overcome**." came from an episode of Due South


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